Achromatic Salvation
by Majestic War
Summary: When the demon general James Darkheart is stripped of his memory, strength, almost all of his weapons, and banished to Earth, it seems that everything is alright. For now. Armed with the memory that he must regain his strength, and his demonic blade, James is left with a choice as the constant lull of darkness steadily consumes his heart.
1. Into the World

_**MW: Hey, guys, it's me, Majesty! Haha. Innocence is still going on just so you know, and I might update my other stories...unless I become dead, sick, blind, or mute. Hahaha...Anyways! This story is intertwined with Innocence, and is about the demon James (My OC who I decided not to put his info in my vast collection of OCs) forming a group with Elesis, and eventually battling/joining the Elgang. Anyways enj-**_

_**Elsword: Wait, why is my own sister going to fight me?**_

_**MW: ... **_

_**Eve: Majestic War is a person who talks very often, so being interrupted is not something he enjoys.**_

_**Elsword: ...Eve...you could've warned me earlier.**_

_**Eve: I pray for your good health, Elsword. **_

_**MW: -Pulls out chainsaw- Prepare to die, motherf-**_

_**Raven: ENJOY! **_

1) – Into the World

_The world was pan-seared. Flames licked the earth lustfully, ominous waves of intensity passing over the area, causing the remaining survivors to collapse almost instantly, their frigid, lifeless bodies crashing to the floor, eyes wide in an expression that pureed the elements of fear and madness. A sharp, shrill cackle sliced through the air as if it was non-existent, the very sound piercing the incredibly sensitive mind of the only person left in the world, shattering the barriers that had allowed her to live the lifestyle she once lived…well, until now. She shrieked, her voice hoarse from the minuscule debris she had choked on prior to this moment. Blood frothed at her lips, and he scream was cut short as the blade entered the flesh where her neck met her shoulder, instantaneously cleaving through the thick muscle the girl had built from exercising often, and easily shredding the reinforced bone. Her head, now severed from her once voluptuous and magnificent (As stated by many men) body crashed into the ground, small pieces of rock lifted into the air by the impact. The attacker—a man, it seemed—lifted his foot into the air, and thrust his leg downward swiftly, his brown combat boots relishing the light of the flames, the reflection of the lifeless woman dancing the boot's body. The man who had killed her thrust his sword into the ground, near the woman's decapitated figure, the sword itself menacing, bathed in spikes created from crude iron; clearly not of this world. Its blade was a lime green, a shade found commonly on attire, but the most grueling feature the sword had been equipped with was the eye. A single, glowing, hazel eye, which would blink occasionally, resulting in the sword looking like it had just appeared, right from the Devil's hands. A voice, somewhat raspy at first, but as the seconds carried on, it began to gain texture, adding character to whoever—or whatever the attacker was._

_"This world is so vexing; the humans are weak, and cannot even defend themselves. It shall have to do for now. Let us wish in the abyss of our hearts that it stands before I reclaim my throne." The voice was deep, audible hints of malice and pride etched into it. Another voice; a female's voice. It was soothing, soft, and at the same time, gave off an ominous vibe that turned the warm hairs on the back of your neck to frigid popsicles at the merest whisper._

_"Welcome to the world, James." _

* * *

1-2) – Into the World (Second Half)

"Once we are consumed by our fears, our greatest nightmares—the most ominous, malevolent things possible—ourselves; only then will true doom be upon us." - James

James walked towards the restaurant, people clambering inside eagerly, staring intently at the words 'all-you can eat noodle bar.' Pausing his trek to the small, but overly populated place, he felt his stomach ache longingly in anticipation of the food, and he squinted, a vain attempt to rid himself of the fact that gnawed away at his composure. He was hungry. He'd been hungry. For days. Lowering the hood that adorned his slightly worn sweatshirt on his head in an attempt to prevent the slightly chill air from freezing his ears and look like he wasn't poor, he began a brisk stride towards the restaurant. Amidst the dense flow of people excitedly pushing past people who slipped in front of them, James caught sight of a girl with black hair, blue streaks framing her hair quite nicely. Her rich, purple-hued eyes locked with his, and for moments, they stood stock still, their eyes observing one another continuously, before she smiled, her smile radiating pure, raw beauty, captivating James for an instant. As she slipped away, his attention returned to the task at hand. He slipped in between the narrow gap created by the couple that was in front of him and, turning diligently towards the waitress, asked,

"Table for one, please?" The waitress smiled brightly, and almost snatching a menu from the small podium beside her, led him towards an empty table. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, James noticed that although the restaurant was small, it was very well-endowed and was equipped with many features that he could only dream to acquire. Cushions lined the chairs and booths, granite tables matching the theme of the restaurant nicely, while waitresses and waiters were adorned with white shirts, raven-black pants and black aprons with the restaurant title and a cloud insignia emblazed onto them. After subtly scanning the menu and indecisively choosing water as an acceptable drink, he sighed, and rest his chin comfortably on the slightly calloused palms of his hand. His eyes flitted to the left, where he noticed the girl he'd come in contact with earlier sauntering over to him, a smirk on her face, one hand on her hip in a sassy, yet playful gesture. She sat across from him, his vibrant green eyes locking on to her rich purple ones as if she were a target he was about to shoot with a missile. She laughed lightly. That was a sound James hadn't heard in a while.

"No need for the hostilities, tiger. I just came here to talk." James raised an eyebrow, and a sarcastic smirk lined his face as his hand left his chin, and he leaned in closer, gaze never leaving hers.

"About what?" He asked, his eyes unnoticeably drinking in her perfectly slim, hourglass figure. To put it simply, she looked quite nice.

"About you. You're poor, aren't you? Where are your parents?" The smirk lingered on James face, and his hand shot forward, his palm open in a familiar gesture.

"My name is James. What's yours?"

"You didn't answer my question." The young woman retorted, leaning closer.

"You didn't answer mine." James exclaimed, following suit, leaning closer. Their foreheads brushed against one another, and James could feel her breath mingling with his as they exhaled almost simultaneously, grinning like madmen all the while, paying no heed as James' drink was set upon the table.

"You're cute." She exclaimed suddenly, and James' grin spread across his face, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Same to you."

"My name's Chessney, by the way…but you can call me Chess."

James twirled his index finger in the air, the grin still adorning his face, their foreheads pressed together tightly as if they were inseparable. His left elbow now rested upon the table, and his face was a mere three inches away from hers. James could practically _taste_ her. He inhaled, his nostrils taking in her flowery scent, and replied,

"Chess. Sounds like the board game."

"Agreed, but James is too common of a name." Chessney answered, her lips nearly brushing against his. She blinked slowly in anticipation.

"What, you have a thing against common names?" James answered. His lips were brushing against hers now, and he struggled internally to resist the ominous urge to kiss her. She was standing next to him, both of them having unconsciously stood up.

"Yeah." She replied, and as she allowed her arms to wrap around his neck, he commented, his voice lowered to a soft whisper, enough to make her shiver in delight.

"I do, too." Surges of emotional electricity passed ecstatically through the both of them as their lips met in a frenzy of passion. Although they had only just met—neither of them believing in luck, fate, or destiny—something inside of them caused spontaneous feelings of lust to erupt in their hearts, and it was then that James felt that he truly belonged somewhere, to someone. He felt like he was finally immersed into the world, where he could interact with people, and establish relationships, eternal bonds, whatever the hell your average person could do. And he loved it.


	2. Elesis

**MW: Elesis...my third favorite character. Ahhhh~ **

**Elesis: Perv.**

**Elsword: Perv.**

**James: Wait, what?**

**MW: How is admiring a redhead being pervy? My best friend's a ginger! And he's awesome! **

**Raven:...Enjoy. **

2) – Elesis

James' eyebrows twitched, hatred filling him from the peak of his head to the soles of his combat boots. He glared at the man before him, his eyes flicking throughout his figure, scanning his abilities just from a glance.

"You…Scar…bastard." James hissed, his lips curling downwards in disgust. The bastard.

"You…" He repeated, trailing off, not bothering to finish his sentence. At this point, words were utterly helpless in the face of the loathing James bore towards this man. In his outstretched palm, a sword appeared its appearance menacing. Lime green was the odd color of the blade, and crude midnight black spikes adorned the blade, intending to rip apart anyone who got in its way. Due to the sword being double-edged, a vivid, but dirty yellow lined the edges of the sword, and a glowing, radiant green eye was the centerpiece of the weapon. James' eyes narrowed even further, devoid of all amusement and happiness that once lighted sparks in the endless pools of green.

"Yes, James—if that is what they call you here—it is 'me.' No need for the hostilities."

"I'm not your friend, so piss off." James fired back, his voice hardening.

"Oh, really? You still don't want to acknowledge what sliver of friendship we acutely shared in the past? Even if we were to duel, you know that I would win. Your sword seems to be responding in the exact same manner I am." Sure enough, James' sword was quivering, the green eye pulsating, sending him a telepathic message. And then humans wondered why they were called 'demon swords.'

"In that pathetic state you are, I could very well crush you with my own hands."

"Screw you!" James exclaimed strenuously, tensing himself, and assuming a battle stance as he followed the man's movement with his eyes. Whirling around, and focusing all his remaining power into the sideways slice he was in the middle of performing, James roared angrily, and swung downwards, only for his hands to stop short of the man. His eyes widened considerably as he watched his sword successfully evaporate into the air, James himself thrown downwards by the force of the swing he had.

"Son of a b—" His sentence was cut short as his eyes flicked upwards swiftly to glance at the monstrous hand that was moments away from encompassing his face. Dammit all.

* * *

James staggered through the brush, supporting his weight with his free hand, blood running down practically every part of his body—limitless crimson oceans coating his rich chocolate skin. He swore, the word barely escaping his mouth before he coughed, allowing blood to slip from his mouth down his chin. James struggled to keep himself upright as his eyes attempted to force themselves closed as he stumbled and occasionally tripped over bushes and overgrown tree roots. He sank to his knees, fatigue spreading through his body. James muttered something incoherent, and fell to the ground, unconscious. Seconds passed. Maybe it was minutes. Hours. Days. Who was around to know? A female's voice passed through his head. Maybe he was remembering Chess. But it didn't sound like her. He wanted to open his eyes. He practically ached to open his eyes. James somehow struggled, and his eyes gradually pried open, rewarded by a girl's face nearing his. James blinked twice as she drew ever closer before yelping, and leaping backwards, surprising himself that he could even move his arms.

"What the hell?!" He questioned, most of the question directed towards the girl, the other part directed towards himself. The girl gave him a puzzled look, replying with,

"I was about to give you mouth-to-mouth, dumbass. What's up with all the blood on you? And don't be so shy. You're supposed to let a girl kiss you, even if you've already recovered." The girl replied. Her voice was soft, incredibly soothing, and at the same time, held minute hints of mischief and a fierceness he'd never felt before. James shook his hands in front of his face.

"Wait, wait, wait. What kinda logic is that? 'Let a girl kiss you, even if you've already recovered?' Shouldn't two people be consent with it, or at least willing to be kissed? And the blood is from…well, I…fell from a tree." Like she'd believe him if he said, 'I got into a fight with the gatekeeper from Hell.'

The girl giggled, and James took that moment to stare at her attire. She was dressed in crimson clothing which consisted of a crow colored dress, which was adorned with a crimson stripe running down the midsection; red belts crossed over the ivory stripe. The dress was very lacy, and hung down to her upper calves, the lacy ends transparent. James felt the heat rise to his cheeks, something he didn't usually experience. A sudden tightening in his chest signaled the fact that it was now becoming harder for him to breathe, and he locked eyes with her. She was really cute…save for the enormous ivory and scarlet claymore that stretched across the length of her back, if not even further.

"You're blushing." She replied almost instantaneously.

Shit.

James shook his head wildly, a vain attempt to hide the feeling that was enveloping his senses. "No. No, I'm not. I'm just a little worn." Having been resting on her knees, she crawled towards him.

"Then you should rest. Can you stand?" She inquired, rising, and dusting herself off diligently with her hands. James nodded, and rose, albeit with slight trouble. She waited until he was standing properly, and then set off at a brisk pace, her strides long. James matched her speed evenly, staring at her back, the upper half of which was left uncovered by her dress. She paused so abruptly, that James had to slide to stop himself from colliding ruthlessly with her.

"We're here," She exclaimed, smiling brightly at him. James chest constricted tightly, and he stiffened, resulting in a playful punch to the shoulder.

"Loosen up, buster. C'mon in. I'll getcha cleaned up." James couldn't help but grin in return, and allowed her to lead him inside. Pausing once more in the doorframe, she whirled around, her limitless, rich pools of golden reflecting pleasantly in James' own vivid green eyes. Her hand now rest on his lower arm.

"I never caught your name." She exclaimed, her eyes locked with his. James reached deep into the depths of his subconscious, and gathered the sarcasm to reply,

"I never tossed it up for grabs." He smirked. She grinned and answered,

"My name is Elesis. Now if you would be so _kind_ as to give me your name, I'd be glad to…invite you inside…if you can grasp a mere fragment of what I'm trying to say. If not, then I'll send you on your way. Unless you're looking for a fight." Her last few words were accompanied by her hand reaching to grasp the hilt of her sword. James succumbed to the overpowering urge to smirk in response.

"My name's James."

Elesis nodded sharply, and smiled brightly. "James. I'll remember that."

* * *

2-2 – Elise (Second Half)

James swung his sword swiftly, the clang of metal—no, the clang of the crude, inhumane iron used by demons to forge blades resounding throughout the lush green forest, the sound ricocheting off of trees and causing the leaves to rustle like spectators cheering for a certain team in a sport. The attacker—another demon—snarled in fury. _One of those military bastards, I see. _James speculated, studying the red skin, which smoke seemed to leech off of, and the incredibly black overcoat the demon wore, pants to match, gold buttons adorning each article of clothing. Feelings of contempt oozed from James' sarcastic growl as he sliced jokingly to the left, the demon moving to block.

"Psyche." James casually exclaimed. With a minuscule flick of the wrist, James' menacing blade sliced through the air, a soft hiss passing along with the slight breeze. The demon's mouth hung wide open, fangs still barred, but eyes wide in pain and agony. What a fool. The slice had passed cleanly through the demon's ribcage—after all, although James' blade was a Demon Sword, it was like no other, able to absorb the life force and stamina of opponents—lest they counterattacked.

"Hmph." James grunted, turning away, ignoring the gray-hued blood that stained his clothes. He stalked quickly back to the house he currently resided in, ignoring the newcomers that appeared around him. Military demons. Under the command of Scar, he supposed. Scar….the bastard that had almost killed him days earlier. Well. Some repayment would do, right? Brutally murdering Scar's most prized minions? Oh, what fun. James smirked, eyes narrowing, his body oozing sadism and raw power.

"Well," He spoke, brandishing his demonic blade wildly. "What do you say we…make this worthwhile?"


End file.
